


The Things That Never Were

by padasdfghjkl



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M, Multi, Original Character Death(s), Original Character(s)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-01-20
Updated: 2015-01-20
Packaged: 2018-03-08 10:20:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,702
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3205706
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/padasdfghjkl/pseuds/padasdfghjkl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A monster by the name of the Turrant has put the Winchesters under a curse that brings them back to the day Mary Winchester died and has them choose a new life path each time. There are lots of twists and turns that go on and John seems to just make matters worse. The boys have no choice but to take what's given to them, and death may be likely.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Begining

         It was an oddly warm night in Lawrence, Kansas and the calm breeze tickled the brown and orange leaves on the large oak tree, just outside the window of a little boy's room. New to the world and completely oblivious to the darkness life holds, six month old Sam Winchester lay in his crib with an intrigued expression. Eyes blazing and fingers wiggling as his mother, Mary, hummed him a soft tune. She smiled at the baby, presenting a warm and toothy grin. Soon after, Sam's bedroom door flung open, two boys racing in: Dean, Mary's eldest son at the age of four and John, her husband. 

         "Hey, Mary," John beamed as Mary stood up to hug him. "Tell your brother goodnight, Dean."

         Dean ran over to his little brother, watching him suck his thumb. "Goodnight, Sammy."

         "What do you think, Dean" John said, picking up the eldest and staying close to Mary, "You think Sammy's ready to toss around the football?"

         "No, Dad," Dean giggled and turned back to look at his brother. 

         "Well, I believe it is a certain young man's bedtime." Mary cooed, taking Dean's hand.

         Mary guided Dean to his room and tucked him in, humming the same lullaby which was her favorite Beatles song, _Hey Jude_.  Before long, Dean was drifting off to sleep. She quietly tip-toed out of the room and walked into the master bedroom where John was already inside getting dressed. 

         "I'm not all that tired," John said while pulling on his shirt, "I'm gonna watch some TV downstairs."

         "Alright, goodnight." Mary pecked John on the lips and watched him exit the room, a particular sway in his walk. She turned off the light and crawled into bed. 

 

        The green lights on the baby monitor flickered as Sam cried from the other room. Mary opened her eyes, trying to adjust to the darkness and looked to the other side of the bed. John still wasn't there. She tiredly climbed out of bed and walked to Sam's room. When she entered, she saw a large dark figure standing at his crib.

         "John?" Mary whispered to the air as Sammy's cried died down.

         "Shh."

         Mary let off a shrug and started to walk back to her room, thinking her youngest was in good hands. As she passes the stairs, there's a light on the wall that won't stop flickering. She gets closer, tapping on the bulb a few times and hears something from downstairs. With a strange, fuzzy feeling in her chest, she gets downstairs to see her husband asleep in the chair, TV still on. 

         "Sam?" Mary yells out, running in a panic back up the stairs to his room. "Sammy! Sammy!" She enters the room to see a familiar face and scoffs, "You."

         A scream awakens John, causing him to jump and stand up. "Mary?" Sam is his first instinct. He runs up the stairs, nearly tripping, and tumbles into Sam's room, seeing nothing strange. He looks around slowly, checking the perimeter. Sam makes a small noise and John draws himself closer, seeing Sam fully in his crib. He holds his hand for a moment and hushes the baby, noticing a thick red liquid splatter near Sam's head. John touches the stain and looks at his finger, another drop falling on his wrist. Furrowing his eye brows a bit, he looks up to the ceiling. Dead center is his wife, pale and still in her long white nightgown, except there's a large red stripe across her stomach. She opens her mouth repeatedly, trying to communicate, but all around her, red and orange flames break out. John fell backwards and yelled, "Mary!" He acted fast, picking up Sam from the crib as the things around them began to burn. He ran outside of Sam's room and saw Dean standing in the doorway.

         "Daddy!" Dean cries out, worried.

         "Take your brother outside as fast as you can. Now, Dean! Go!" 

         Dean followed his father's orders and ran outside with Sam.

         The crackling of the fire made John had to bite his lip to keep from going insane. Shortly after Dean, he ran outside too, scooping Dean up in his arms and taking them farther away from the blazing house. Sam's bedroom window was lit with gold and when the glass shattered, it glistened in an beautiful, awful way. At that point, John was just trying to piece everything together. Suddenly, it felt like it was just him. Like Sam and Dean weren't even there, but someone else was. Paranoid, John turned to look over his shoulder to see a nicely dressed man. 

         "This is your first chance," the man said with a thick New York accent and pulled down his sleeves absently. "You pick a direction to go John, play a game of Life. You know what happened the first time."

         "Why did you bring me back here?" John had to refrain from yelling.

         "Because I'm the Turrant. I'm the nice guy, remember? I give all the chances." The Turrant smirked a devilish smirk and point to his silver watch with a purple lining. "Gotta run." 

         The Turrant walked off, turning a corner down the street and disappearing. It was back to John and Sam and Dean, sitting in the cold of the night, watching the sparks from inside of the house like fireworks on Fourth of July.

 

         John thought about what the Turrant said. He thought for a long time. Nine years. Dean was now thirteen and Sam nine. He wasn't going to sit around, not bothering to find what killed his wife, but he also wasn't going to put his boys through that. For nine years he contemplated but now he had reached his decision. 

         "Where are we going?" Dean asked from the back seat of his dad's car. 

         "Some place special." 

         The rest of the car ride was silent, except for Sam's whispering to Dean about where he thought they were all going, because Sam always wanted to know what Dean was thinking and Dean would always tell him.

         They pulled up to a large building with very little cars in the parking lot and a lady out front pacing back and forth, then waving once she saw John. Sam bit his lip and gave off a confused expression and Dean put an arm around his brother. John held up a finger to the lady, indicating that she wait just a moment. He crouched down to level with his two sons and smiled sadly.

         "Why are we here?" Sam questioned his father and kicked his shoe on the pavement a few times, which is what he did when he was nervous. 

         John went into a little speech that he had probably prepared the night before, trying his best to comfort, but Dean already figured it all out for himself. Dean knew exactly what was going on and once he had heard John talking about it over the phone with someone. Dean wasn't in the mood to hear his father's excuses so he took his little brother's hand, and walked towards the doors of the Foster Care building. He could hear his dad yelling their names and Sam almost turned back, but instead looked to Dean who had his jaw clenched and eyes set forward, so he copied him. They got inside of the building and the lady that was outside was now close behind saying, "Just make yourself comfortable. We have someone who will be here to take you in about an hour from now." But one hour seemed like an eternity. Dean watched their dad drive off and listened to his brother weep on his shoulder. 

         A young, dark haired man entered the building and gave Sam and Dean a light smirk as he passed them, standing at the desk.

         "Yeah I'm here for those two," he said in a raspy voice, pointing a finger over to the two brothers, Dean bringing Sam a little closer to him.

         The lady at the desk had him state his name, but he just leaned in and whispered it to her. Dean knitted his brows together and tilted his head. Sam shook under his arm and Dean rubbed his arm slowly, trying to listen to the man. He signed off on a bunch of papers and finally walked over to Sam and Dean.

         "Ready to head out?" He asked, an eerie smile creeping on his face. "C'mon."

         The boys had no choice but to follow the man and he lead them to his car. A cherry red 65 Mustang, the one that Dean had seen on the TV before, but it seemed smaller in person. 

         "Like the car?" the man called out, opening the back door for the boys. 

         Sam smiled politely and Dean barely nodded his head.

         "You can sit in the front if you'd like," he directed to Dean as Sam crawled in the back. Dean gave a quick nod and circled around, hopping in the front. The man got in and started up the car, pulling out of the poorly paved parking lot and drove on the main road for a bout twenty minutes. 

         In the car, Dean inspected the man driving. He still didn't know his name, which made him uncomfortable. He wore a big leather jacket with a white shirt underneath. His jeans fit well and weren't too baggy and he wore what looked like work boots. He had a head full of hair, dark and thick that puffed up in a strange sort of way, leaning mainly to one side like someone doing a back-bend. His eyes were a light shade of brown with slight drops of hazel along the edges. In the light, the shone in a golden sort of way, like a billion lanterns light up in his mind. He had his mouth curved upwards in a smile that Dean thought must hurt after holding it for so long. 

         "So," the man exclaimed, looking back slightly in the front mirror, locking a gaze with Sam, "You must be Sam," then his gold brown eyes set on Dean, "and you must be Dean." 

         "Yep," Sam said, a little loud, "Dean is thirteen years old." 

         "Really? Big boy. And how old are you, Sam?" 

         "Nine." He said, holding up nine fingers. 

         "Oh perfect. I have a great job for you when we get home then."

         Sam gave off a bright smile but Dean was just all around irritated. He wished Sam would feel the same way he did. Hurt, scared, and curious. 

 

         When the man parked in front of a old, musty building, Dean was sure he had made a wrong turn. A big sign with a chipped red trim hung on a rotted white post that read: Charm Breaks Hotel. The man got out and Sam and Dean followed him inside.

         "This is where you'll be living. I run this place. It's a hotel but we have... special costumers." He grinned as a couple of large, muscular men stepped up to the man. One whispered in his ear and back away, the man nodding. 

         "What's your name," Dean finally blurted out, unable to take the suspense. 

         "Actually, you call me Master." he smiled again which pissed Dean off more. Why would they call him that? But the poor Winchesters would soon come to learn. 

 

         It had been a couple weeks and Master had given both brothers jobs at the hotel. Sam's job was to go around from room to room and drug up all the prostitutes that Master had gathered up in this hell hole, and do whatever Master said. Dean had only figured out that this was basically a giant building for guys to cash in and do as they please behind closed doors because Master gave Dean the job of being one of those prostitutes. Sam couldn't because he was the youngest in the building. In total, there were about twenty boys in the hotel. The youngest was twelve, just one year younger than Dean. His name was Taylor and he had short blonde hair. He told Dean he used to have a brother here, but he went against Master's orders and was shot. Dean thought about that a lot. What if Sam did something Master didn't like? What if he got shot? But Taylor assured Dean that Master liked them. Talked about them all the time, which didn't make Dean feel better. 

         "You Dean?" a brunette called from his bed, door wide open, catching Dean's attention as he walked by.

         "Yeah," he said, walking in the room. He examined the boy. He looked older, maybe seventeen or so. Brown hair that was sloppily shoved out of his face, revealing a pair of hazel eyes. 

         "I'm Kyle," he stuck his hand out and Dean shook it firmly. "I wanna warn you about somethin'. I'm gonna be straight with you and just say you probably ain't gonna be gettin' outta here. So there's some things you'll need to know. Always do as your told. Don't fight the staff unless you want Master to have it out for ya'. You're new here, so a lot of the payers are gonna be wantin' to test out your parts."

         Dean felt a burning sensation in his head and he felt like he was drowning. He left Kyle's room and entered his at the end of the hall, soon to be introduced that none of what Kyle said was false.

 


	2. Estranged

         Three years went by consisting of brutality at its finest. Hundreds of men walked into Dean's room and had their way with him. Some came regularly. Some came with another man. Some made Dean say things. Some tied, gagged, and beat him until he couldn't move. But before any of that could happen, Master wanted to be sure that Dean wasn't a virgin once someone payed for him. Thing was, Master wasn't about to let anyone else near Dean until he got his hands on him. 

-

         "Hold still and relax," Master whispered against Dean's bare skin. The closer he got, the more Dean couldn't relax. It was pointless to try. His clothes were removed and he was in no way prepared for what would happen. Master's hands were running down Dean's sides, making him shiver. 

         "There's gotta be another job I can have," Dean groaned quietly.

         "Sh." Master's hand slid down his side to Dean's thigh, pushing it slightly to the left and listened to Dean sigh. He lined himself up quickly and cupped the side of Dean's face, pushing in and out gently. Dean squirmed beneath him and let out a pained sound.

         "Don't worry. I'll make sure you're ready for your job." 

         Dean let loose a hurt yelp as Master pushed into Dean at a faster pace, not slowing down if the world depended on it. Straggled noises toppled over one another in the base of Dean's throat and Master did nothing but hush them away. 

         "Don't you worry, Dean. You're gonna be the star in this joint. Everybody's gonna want you." Master whispered against Dean's neck, his thrusts becoming stiffer. Aggressive, even.

         Dean didn't even respond with words, only letting himself make low grunts and sobs, frightful for the path ahead of him after he walked out of Master's room. In the corner of his eye, Dean saw a little box. It was blue and velvet and had a tiny gold tie in the center that looped upwards, onto the top of the box. His eyes traced their way to the box and back to Master, his actions coming to a stop and their eyes locking tight like a safe holding a million dollars which is exactly how Master pictured Dean. 

         "How rude of me," Master's eyes laughed and mocked Dean's jaw dropped expression, "That stuff will make everything better." Master got up and retrieved the velvet box and ran his finger tips along the edges. He dragged them along to tenderly undo the golden string. He pulled out a small, slender syringe with a long red piece of cloth and a clear tube of liquid. Dean sat up uncomfortably and pulled the sheets over his body. 

         "It's alright," Master said, his voice baring a strong confidence that made Dean shake, "this'll make you forget all those pains."

         Master's hands danced along the materials, tying the red cloth around Dean's bicep tightly, and filling up the syringe with the clear liquid. His mouth blew out a long 'shhh' and pushed the needle into Dean's forearm, injecting the cold liquid. Dean bared his teeth as Master kissed his cheek, soon pulling out the needle.

         "Wasn't so bad," Master mumbled, but Dean was already starting to feel nine kinds of crazy. The room seems to enlarge on its own and Dean's head felt like his brain was drowning, bu that wasn't going to hold anything back. Master still re-positioned himself, and was back at it.

         "Please." Kept leaving Dean's mouth, never clarifying what exactly he was pleading for, but it seemed unnecessary to elaborate. Master only went harder, Dean feeling like his body was on fire. 

         "Turn your head." Master ordered, and Dean did so. Back in a time when Dean was more obedient and listened to Master more. Master took advantage of the exposed skin and bit and kissed all along Dean's neck, making him shudder in discomfort. 

         Soon, Master had reached his high and tossed Dean out like a piece of trash, which is how Dean felt the majority of the time. Trash. Good for nothing, waste of space, all 'round terrible piece of trash. And that was just how he was treated.

-

         "Dean." Sam's voice weaved into Dean's head and he blinked. Sam stood at his bedside with the small blue box that Master made him carry around with everything inside. There was an odd feeling in Dean's chest when Sam approached, sitting on the bed next to his tired brother.

         "Hey, Sammy."

         "I got you out of a costumer. Said you were sick." Sam toyed with the box and looked down at it. 

         "Sam, if Master finds out you did that you're in huge trouble."

         "You've already done five. You need to sleep."

         Dean reached out his hand to brush back Sam's hair which was getting long fast. Sam took it as an invitation to lay down and he rested the box on the edge of the bed.

         There was a brief silence when Sam muttered, "The new kid's supposed to come tonight."

         "Yeah," Dean said, closing his eyes.

         "What if he's younger than me?"

         Dean put an arm around Sam and whispered, "You don't know that."

         "But it's possible. And if he is, he gets my job and I have to-"

         "Sam, don't think about it. Just close your eyes." To be honest, Dean didn't want to think about it either. 

         "I'm so scared." Sam's body trembled under Dean's arm and he only breathed in short, choppy breaths.

         "Sh, I'm right here." For a few moments, it was quiet, until Master decided to burst into the room yelling about this and that.

         "The hell you think you're doin'?" He yelled, looking directly to Sam.

         "Laying down." Sam stated in a sarcastic tone, not bothering to get up.

         "Get up, you got rounds." Master threw a beer bottle in Sam and Dean's direction but his drunkenness effected the throw and it fell short, crashing onto the floor and shattering. 

         Sam heaved out a sigh and got up sluggishly. "Get some sleep?"

         "Yeah, alright," Dean lied, knowing his brain wouldn't shut down for the life of him. Not for a while, at least. 

         For a few minutes, Dean lay there thinking about a lot if the stuff that usually filled his brain, like cotton in a teddy bear. He thought about what he would have to go through tomorrow, whether he would eat or not, and then the hardest brain teaser of them all: How old would that damn kid be? There was a new guy arriving tonight that rumor had it was at least Sam's age, if not younger. Sam had been stressing ever since he heard the news, and to be completely honest, so was Dean. He couldn't decide which was worse, Sam sticking with his crappy job for the entire time they'd be here, or him getting put into the type of job Dean had. Dean decided the second was worse, not baring to picture his little brother is such a dangerous position. But anyways, it was a kid. Name was Colin, that was all Dean knew aside from his arrival date, but he didn't know if his brain could take any more information. After Dean's thought ran around his tired head, he tuned in to his least favorite station. The painful screams throughout the building echoed in his mind, shattering the wall of alienation he had put up an hour ago similar to the beer bottle below his too small, tattered bed that was just barely holding itself up on its four rusty pegs. He could distinctly hear the orders of the grown men in each room and Dean was thankful it wasn't him at the moment. He was unsure he could take another beat or another act of being shoved down on the sorry excuse for a bed and fucked against his will. On the other hand, he felt sorry for the others. He always did. Even though Dean had earned the "Top Seller" title and had it worse than anyone else in this god forsaken hotel, he still felt bad. Dean, sadly, noticed that his green eyes were beginning to feel like raisins and stung horribly. Once again he would be falling asleep with good intentions and bad surroundings, the haunting smell of his room clogging nostrils.

        About three hours had went by and Dean was just getting ready to sink into the abyss of his dreams when he heard his door creak open as slow as possible, and he automatically knew it was Sam. He opened his eyes to the direction of the door and Sam walked forward, closing the door and laying down with Dean.

         "Don't worry I have permission." Sam mumbled and there were no more words said.

 

 

    

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
